


Daisy Chain

by Morrigayn_DeWyvern



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigayn_DeWyvern/pseuds/Morrigayn_DeWyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first foray into Dragon Age II fanfic although this definitely isn’t my first story.  The majority of writers/readers seem to love Anders, Fenris and Hawke (of either gender) primarily for romantic pairings.  I suppose because they are part of romantic developments within the game.  Varric happens to be my favorite character, and he doesn’t seem to get much loving.  M for sex.</p>
<p>Merrill X Varric</p>
<p>Bioware owns everything but my story.  I am not making money off of my writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had taken almost a year after the Qunari had been rousted from the city for Kirkwall to begin to look like normal again. Everyone from the Chantry and High Town to the dregs of Dark Town had put forth massive effort to rebuild Kirkwall. Roads had to be cleared. Bridges, walkways and gates to re-forged. Public and private buildings to be rebuilt. For a brief time, old enmities and grudges had been put aside for the greater good. Elf, dwarf and human worked shoulder to shoulder in brutal, backbreaking work. Templar and Mage put forth their combined energies for Kirkwall. In the center of the maelstrom balancing the wills and desires of the many was the Champion of Kirkwall, Apostate Mage, Marion Hawke.

Knight Commander Meredith, in lieu of a Viscount, officially re-opened the gates of Kirkwall with the public blessing of the Grand Cleric. The ceremony officially opened a week of fetes and celebrations from the spires of the Chantry all the way to the hovels of Dark Town. There was no place in all of Kirkwall that inhabitants were not in jubilant celebration. Meredith had even granted pardons for a few criminals and mages as an act of goodwill.

The Hanged Man was a raucous cacophony tonight. The air was thick with smoke from the patrons’ pipes and the smoke from the half dry wood in the large fireplaces and hearths. The candles and lanterns did little to lift the sooty gloom. It seemed every denizen of Low Town and most of Dark Town had come to the inn to celebrate. Men and women were crowded around the bar and tables. Many were stuffed into corners or perched precariously in windowsills. 

Everyone seemed to have a tankard of ale or a flask of whiskey. A precious few were sipping at mead or wine trying to put on pretensions of High Town. Whores were as thick as fleas plying their trade with anyone who would pay. Pickpockets and petty thieves were taking advantage of the drunkenness to fill their pockets with whatever valuables could be found on Kirkwall’s lowest and meanest of citizens. In the center of the mayhem, sat a long roughhewn table where sat the Champion of Kirkwall, Marion Hawke and her companions.

 

Hawke, Fenris, Isabel and Anders were playing a card game that involved shots of whiskey and loss of clothing. They had tried to lasso Merrill into the game with a lot of cajoling and bedroom eyes, but she politely and firmly declined. She was not very good at card games, did not like whiskey and had no desire to get drunk and naked in front of so many. Aveline had opted not to celebrate and was out with her City Guard trying to keep order.

All of them were in various states of undress and drunkenness. Isabela was sitting on the bench with her underwear on the table. Every so often she would move in such a way as to give everyone at the table a fleeting glimpse of her dusky thighs and pudendum. Anders had long ago lost his shirt and over vest. His scarred, muscled chest stood in hard definition with small, brown nipples hard from the cool air and golden curls dusting his chest leading in a clearly defined line down to his pants. Hawke had lost her war mage robes, hood, and gloves She was sitting in chest band and leather leggings and boots. Her heavy chest swayed with every movement drawing the eyes of all of the companions and many of other patrons. She would cross and uncross her long legs from time to time. Her tattoos were a bright contrast to her pale skin. Her black hair had come loose from its many braids and was a wavy, slatternly mess around her face. Her green eyes seemed to glow with mischief and lust as she leaned over to whisper into Fenris’s long elegant ear. Whatever she said to her lover, Fenris blushed deeply. For his part, he was not nearly as drunk or undressed as the others. He had lost his shoes and greaves. He was sitting in knee pants that showed his slender, tanned legs to their best. White lyrium markings gleamed faintly in the gloom and swooped elegantly along his legs and disappeared into the knee pants. 

Varric sat at another smaller table with Merrill and Sebastian. They both had opted out of the game of cards. Sebastian declined out of piety. Merrill declined because of her lack of skills and innate modesty. Varric being a good host also bowed out to keep the two company and run interference as Sebastian was not fond of the blood mage for religious reasons. Varric had been regaling them with many of his stories.

Varric also kept an eye on the larger table making sure the cups were full and the whores and pickpockets kept off. He guffawed when Isabel snuggled up to Anders and began to slip her hands into his pants. Anders swatted at her hands but without much venom. He gave her a reproving look and shook his head. Isabel pouted, and Anders leaned in to whisper to her. She nodded and withdrew her hand but lay like a cat over him, molding her body to his. Varric would not bet on Anders’ virtue this night. The four began another round of cards. Varric turned his eyes back to his own table.

Sebastian had come down from the Chantry, was sipping ale and watching his comrades with barely suppressed horror at their very uncouth, public antics. He was dressed in all his finery and looked like a peacock in a henhouse. For all that he had a stick in his arse; Varric had come to respect the ability and loyalty of the Prince archer. He did give Sebastian marks for making his way down to the Hanged Man to celebrate with his companions regardless of their backgrounds. Although, it was going to cost Varric plenty of gold sovereigns to keep Sebastian safe as he made his way back the Chantry tonight or tomorrow. Varric supposed Sebastian would spend most of the following day praying to atone for the sins of himself and companions. 

Merrill was staring into her cup of apple cider looking uncomfortable and forlorn. Merrill fit in with no one in no place. Her Dalish clan cast her out for her use of blood magik and her refusal to follow the traditions of her people. She was distrusted by the Kirkwall citizens for being elvish and those of the Alienage for her being a Dalish Pariah. Varric had a soft spot for her as he was a surface born dwarf from a dishonored, noble, dwarven family. He shaved his beard, and had neither the driving desire for the secrets of the underground nor dwarven sensibilities. They both had gained the disdain of their people and had to make their own way in the human world. While Varric was world wise and crafty, Merrill was naïve and trusting. He worried for her.

“So where was I? Oh yeah, a rock troll was about to throw this huge bolder at me when…” Varric tried to pick up where he left off of his story when the place erupted into roars, hoots and catcalls. Sebastian, Merrill and Varric looked up to see what all the commotion was over.

Isabela was standing on the table and beginning to shimmy out of her corselet and tunic revealing her buxom figure in all its glory. She threw her garments at Anders who was staring at her with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. She began to step down to straddle the addled mage with a predatory look in her eyes. Fenris and Hawke were laughing so hard tears were in their eyes. Sebastian looked down and began to pray for strength against Lust. Merrill had a strange, intense look in her eyes as she watched the scene.

Varric pounded the table and bellowed, “Alright, you have given the Hanged Man and most of Low Town their entertainment…take it upstairs to your suite, Rivani!”

Isabela turned and winked at Varric and purred, “Care to join us?” 

Anders was hastily standing and trying to pull his cloak from the back of the chair to cover the naked woman. It was tangled. It took a moment for him to pull it free and wrap up the posing woman.

Varric laughed, “Not tonight! Have fun!” He waved as Anders and Isabela made their way up the stairs to the rooms. Many yelled encouragement and crudities at Anders as they made their way up the stairs.

Hawke pouted, “Damn, Varric! We were winning!” She clumsily reached out and collected the sovereigns, silver pieces and coppers that were still stacked on the table. She then pulled her mages robes back on, tied them haphazardly and deposited the coins in her money purse.

Fenris snorted, “I think that is enough of Isabela’s charms and the company of the Hanged Man tonight.” Fenris quickly reattached his greaves and shoes. He stood to collect his claymore and steer the very drunk Hawke from the Hanged Man back to the Hawke estate. Fenris gave a nod of goodbye to Varric’s table though to no one in particular.

“Need some help there?” Sebastian asked relieved at having a way to extricate himself from the Hanged Man. Fenris looked at Sebastian noticing he didn’t seem inebriated at all. While Fenris was far from drunk, he had drank enough to make him a bit slow which was never safe when walking through Low Town back to High Town. Also, there was the fact that the Champion of Kirkwall was blind drunk and hung heavily on Fenris giggling like a maid at her first dance.

“I’d appreciate your company and bow, Sebastian.” Fenris said simply. Sebastian nodded. He turned to give his polite goodbyes to Varric and Merrill. He left with Fenris supporting Marion.

The Hanged Man quieted perceptibly when the Champion’s group disbanded. Varric turned to Merrill and found her staring into her cup with tears dripping into it. Varric gently reached over to her hand and grasped it. 

“What’s wrong, Daisy?” Varric asked her softly. His amber eyes were full of concern.

Merrill jerked away from Varric and began to angrily rub her cheeks. “Nothing, Varric! Time for bed. I have a patrol with Aveline, Fenris and Hawke tomorrow on the Wounded Coast. Something about thieves pillaging caravans. Goodnight!”

Merrill stood too quickly bumping the table in the process and upended her cup of cider. It spread in a golden wave across the table and rushed over the edge onto Varric’s duster, belt and pants. Varric jumped back and in a rare show of anger yelped, “Damn it, just got my duster cleaned. Be more careful, Daisy.”

She put her hands to her face and sobbed as she turned to run out of the Hanged Man leaving her cloak, mage’s staff and money purse behind.

Varric stood and grabbed a linen handkerchief from his myriad pockets and began to dab at the cider. “Come back, Daisy!” Varric yelled after her. He shook his head at the retreating figure. 

Edwina, the barmaid, made her way to the table. “That’s enough of you ruffians!” She continued to grumble as she cleaned up the spilled cider, used cutlery and dishes.

Varric grabbed a handful of silvers from his money purse and dropped them on the table along with one gold sovereign. “Here ya go, my dear. This should cover the mess!”

Edwina scooped up the coins. “Better go after that elf maid, Varric. She’s sweet but a bit daft. She’ll get herself into all kinds of trouble tonight.” 

Varric snorted at Edwina’s estimation of Merrill although he did agree that Merrill would be in danger without her staff. She was not daft, just sheltered and naïve. He gathered Merrill’s items. He strapped her staff to his back next to his beloved Bianca. It was cumbersome match with a few feet of mage staff waving around above his head and a sharp blade rubbing against his arse.

“Keep the fire going in my suite and put some bricks in the bed to warm it, Edwina!” Varric called out as he made his way out of the Hanged Man nimbly moving around the drunks, tables and detritus on the floor. 

Varric stood in the middle of the street wondering which way Daisy had got off. There were a couple of different ways back to the Alienage.


	2. Chapter 2

Varric stood indecisively for a moment thinking about the various ways Merrill could make it back to her hovel in the Alienage. The air was cool but heavily humid from the winds blowing off of the waters. The breeze blew through the buildings that made up Low Town bringing the smell of salt and rotten fish from the wharves. The night was not true but burned orange from the many bonfires blazing to celebrate Kirkwall’s reopening. Clouds glowed orange, and stars were obscured in the infernal glow. Every so often, fireworks or magik bolts would explode in the night sky lighting it with multicolored flowers, starbursts and spheres. There was a dull roar from the multitudes of voices talking, chanting or singing along with drums and horns blowing from time to time. It was a cacophony to numb the senses.

Varric remembered Merrill’s penchant for taking dark alleys and side streets as shortcuts to her home. He began a brisk walk down the closest alley leading to the Alienage. It was dark and the air foul heavy with the scent of shit, vomit, urine and alcohol. Varric coughed and drew his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose in an attempt to relieve the odor and protect himself from the foul miasma. He had to step around mounds of bottles and piles of slop. Every so often, a drunk vagrant would be found sitting and staring into the nothing on an overturned barrel or asleep in a pile of rags. Rats and other vermin skittered with no fear of the humans or the lone dwarf making his way through the alley. He had to jump to miss trash and the contents of chamber pots periodically being tossed out of the glassless windows of the hunched and moldering buildings that made up the alley.

Varric quickly made his way through the first alley. He breathed a deep sigh of relief to step into a small, dark street that was not full of filth. He moved his scarf down off of his face and tried to listen for distinct footsteps to indicate Merrill was making her way home. He also listened for the heavier boots of the Coterie or Carta thugs that often prayed on the unwary on dark and lonely paths. It was as quiet as a city celebrating could be. The Coterie and others must be up on High Town for easy pickings. He did not have the feeling he was being watched and Bianca was quiet. Varric readjusted the mage’s staff on his back to ease the rubbing of the blade on his arse. He cursed at the thought of the razor sharp blade leaving scratches and gashes in his duster. Time seemed to crawl as the dwarf made his way through the winding streets. He hoped he would catch up with the distraught elf maid to accompany her home. He didn’t want anyone to try to hurt Daisy. He was confused over what had set her off in a torrent of tears. He had seen her cry only when her friend, Pol, had fallen in the caverns when they fought the Varterral. She tried to make the best of her situation in Kirkwall and the Alienage. 

Varric liked the innocent and socially awkward elf maid from the start. She had grit to stand up to her own people. He was sure Hawke cared for Merrill, as well. Like Varric, Hawke went out of her way to visit and include Merrill. Anders and Fenris were united in a distrust of the young elf maid because of her use of blood magik. Isabela enjoyed playing and teasing with Merrill as she did everyone. There weren’t too many people Isabela did not like. Sebastian considered her one step up from an abomination. Aveline didn’t really know her. Merrill accompanied Aveline on a few missions with the City Guard but did not socialize much as Aveline was a workhorse.

Varric made his way to the entrance of the Alienage unmolested and mostly unseen. He heard arguing long before he saw the stairs. Merrill’s voice lifted in shrill, strident tones. Varric slid into the shadows and quietly made his way down the steps to find out what events were transpiring. He turned the corner to find a group of ragged dressed elvhen youths surrounding Merrill. They all carried clubs and knives. They swayed and slurred some of their speech. When the wind shifted, he could smell cheap, rot gut whiskey. A pack of drunk hellions looking for the wayward to cause misery and pain.

Merrill knew the others avoided her like the Blight. Young mothers often gathered their children and babies and herded them away from even the shadow of Merrill. Old mothers and men made warding signs against the evil eye if Merrill happened to glance upon them. None except Arianny had a kind word for her. Even then it was guarded. Then Arianny had returned to the Dalish. Merrill had been attacked upon entering the Alienage. Merrill never considered the urchins with nothing better to do would get drunk and attack her. The others in the Alienage knew what was going on in the courtyard, but none would venture out to assist the blood mage. Good riddance if she lived or died.

The gang had stolen some cheap whiskey from a drunk in an alley and had begun drinking early in the day. The regaled each other with tales of Champions and Grey Wardens from the past subduing evil mages, Abominations, Demons and the Dark Spawn. They began to fancy themselves Knights and would remove the Blighted blood mage amongst them. They gathered a few makeshift clubs and kitchen knives to arm themselves with and waited most of the afternoon and night for the blood mage to return. They passed the whiskey amongst themselves and whispered of the accolades they would receive from the Templars and Chantry for removing an Apostate Abomination from Kirkwall.

Varric could see Merrill had already been attacked. One eye was black and swelling shut. Cuts and scratches were on her hands. Her hair was slick with blood in some spots and terribly tangled in others. Varric could see pieces of her braids laying in the dirt that covered the cobblestoned courtyard ripped out by mean hands. The urchins darted in to strike like wolves tearing at a deer. A circle of beasts closing in on the kill. A blade leaving a shallow cut here. A club landing with a hard thunk there. What surprised the dwarf was that Merrill was not fighting back with her magik. Even without a staff, she could summon and hurl bolts of fire, ice or spirit. With all of her blood flowing, she could have used her blood magik. She hadn’t even summoned the magik of nature to protect or defend herself. Instead, she tried to fend them off without magik and beg. She tried to push them away, slap at them or maneuver away from hellions. She was no warrior and had no training fighting hand to hand without her bladed staff. She had no heavy armor as it would impeded her casting. 

“Please stop…I won’t hurt you…I haven’t hurt anyone…you are my people!” Merrill screamed. She wavered and slowly went to her knees in dizziness. The young males just snarled at her and laughed.

Their leader, a young lad with black hair and icy, silver eyes taunted her, “Ha, you are not our people… whore to demons is what you are ….we found out why you were cast out of the Dalish clan and had to come slumming with city elvhen. Pariah cunt, you aren’t wanted here…since none of our elders will tell you…we’ll show you the way out!” 

He stood above Merrill and lifted his club to land the killing blow when a whistle of air was heard followed by a hard thunk. The boy looked down in pain and horror to find a large crossbow bolt sunk deeply into the upper thigh of his left leg. His blood was pouring profusely from the ragged wound and staining his dirty, torn, pants an ugly, dark hue that glistened dully in the gloom of the lanterns surrounding the Alienage. Immediately, the boy dropped his club and grasped at the bolt and his leg. He pulled on it and screeched as the barbs on the bolt dug deeper into his wounded flesh. Bolts whistled out of the dark in a rain. Each sunk deep in an urchin’s arm or leg…wounds to cripple and weaken but not kill. The boys screamed in terror and pain. They saw a beardless dwarf step out of dark with a large, heavily embossed crossbow with a bayonet at the end. The handsome features of the dwarf were twisted in rage. He lifted the cross bow to fire again. The hellions scattered to the winds seeing the dwarf. They quickly lost their courage when faced with someone who would fight back.

“Bianca you minx! That was beautiful!” Varric yelled to no one in particular. The bayonet retreated to within Bianca’s interior. With a click, the cross bow folded into itself. Varric slid her back into her holster on his back with long practiced ease. Varric nimbly jumped down the stairs. Merrill was still on the ground and looking around owlishly with her one good eye. Everything had become blurry and indistinct when she fell to the ground. She started at the sound of someone approaching.

“Stop…please!” Merrill begged in a broken voice. She covered her head to protect it from blows that would never come.

Varric had a knot is his throat. He swallowed twice and his voice was thick when he spoke gently, “It’s me, Daisy.” 

He reached out and with infinite softness caressed her head before pushing her braids out of her face. She turned so she could see with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. It stung from the her salty blood dripping into it. She shook her head and blinked to try to clear the tears and blood from her face. Varric reached into a pocket and removed a handkerchief. He dabbed at the blood gingerly. Merrill lifted her hands and clumsily reached for the linen. Varric let her have it. She wiped at her face and eyes for a bit before turning to try to look at Varric.

She could barely make out the short, stocky form of the dwarf. Her one good eye kept loosing focus as bouts of dizziness came and went. Merrill slowly reached out and gently touched Varric’s face with trembling fingers. She could feel the strong jaw and rough stubble. She gently felt for the heavy chain around his neck and the heavy gold in his ears. She sobbed and fell forward in relief when she was sure it was the rogue dwarf with the silver tongue.

“Thank the Creators!” Merrill sobbed.

Varric gently maneuvered her to lean against the broken wall. He did a quick survey of the area and found they were alone. He turned his eyes back to the broken flower and sat down beside her after placing her staff against the wall. “Oh, Daisy.” Varric said softly, “Why didn’t you use your magik against them?”

Merrill was silent for so long Varric thought she was unconscious. He reached out to touch her cut and bloody hands. Merrill turned her broken, swollen face toward him, “They are my people, Varric. I could not harm those children…”

Varric lashed out in frustrated anger and fear, “Those Maker damned children would have killed you if I hadn’t followed you to return your belongings!”

Merrill flinched at the venom in Varric’s voice but did not respond. She turned her face away from him. Varric huffed in annoyance. She could be so damned confusing at times. He’d seen her blow highwaymen, Tal-Vashoth and a horde of various Abominations, Undead and Demons to bits, but she refused to even scorch a “civilian” that bore her ill will. Varric shook his head and rubbed his hands down his face.

“Can you stand, Daisy?” Varric changed the subject. “We can’t just sit out here. You need to have Anders check you over back at the Hanged Man.”

Merrill shook her head. “Anders is drunk. Anyway, I don’t think I can make it back.” 

She struggled to stand up. Varric hurried to his feet to support her. He passed her the staff. She grabbed it with her left hand, and leaned heavily on it. He noticed her favoring her right arm. She kept it pulled against her body. He had to keep an strong arm around her waist as she listed to the side.

“Arm broke, Daisy?” Varric asked.

Merrill snorted. “Probably. Help me into my home. I’ll drink an elfroot potion. Could you let Hawke know I cannot meet them tomorrow?”

“I’ll send a message…”, Varric began. He took a tentative step toward Merrill’s door. Merrill staggered with every step. Slowly the two made their way across the courtyard to her door. Merrill leaned against the crumbling masonry of her home breathing hard from the exertion. 

“I don’t have my purse with the key.” Merrill said.

“I have your cloak and purse, kitten.” Varric said distractedly. He couldn’t reach her purse tied beside his own and keep her standing. He reached for his lock picks and nimbly picked the simple lock on her door. The door swung inward to darkness. The fire long burnt to bitter ashes.

“I love doing that.” Varric said with some pride.

Merrill gave a weak laugh and made to enter her home. Varric moved to assist her when she gently disentangled herself from his grasp. “Go home, Varric. I’ll be alright.”

“I am staying with you, Daisy. You are in no condition…” Varric began.

“I don’t need you babysitting me, Varric. I know you think I am a ninny for not fighting them…” Merrill interrupted him. “Anyway, you can go to the Wounded Coast in my place tomorrow….and you probably have things to do tonight…maybe you’ll join Anders and Isabela…sorry, I am rambling!” Merrill shut her mouth with an audible click.

Varric laughed heartily. Her rambling had diffused his anger. “You wound me, Daisy. I thought you thought more highly of me than that. I wouldn’t bed Anders or Isabela for all the gold in the world. And both of them together not for all the lyrium. I have nowhere else I need to be.” Varric wrapped his arm back around Merrill and led her into the darkness. Merrill was just too tired and in pain to object although she hated to think she was being a bother to anyone.  


Varric had an eidetic memory for maps and buildings. Useful skill for a rogue. He easily moved her through the darkness and black shadows of furniture to her bedroom. He eased Merrill onto her bed. He released her and used a flint to light a candle.

“By the Maker, you look terrible, Daisy.” Varric said. “You could scare the life out of an ogre at twenty paces!”

The shadows cast from candle exacerbated Merrill’s terrible visage. Mages rarely entered directly into the fray in a fight and usually had nothing more than a few scratches and rarely a bruise to show for it.  


Merrill laughed. Her one good eye twinkling with mischief. “I feel terrible, too.”

Varric turned toward the front room of the hovel. “I’ll get the elfroot potion along with some other supplies. Don’t go anywhere!”

“I think a good frolic at the tree tonight would be in order.” Merrill teased back.

Varric guffawed as he left the room. If she was teasing him, then she wasn’t about to expire then.

He easily found his way back into the main room. Moonlight dimly lit the room from holes in the ceiling of her home. He found the hearth and reached for kindling and wood to shed some light. He cursed when his hands came up empty. He stood and felt for candles and found them burned down to nubs. He clenched his jaw. Why hadn’t anyone noticed how poorly Merrill was doing? Of course, she rarely invited anyone over. She refused most coin offered her saying she was supporting herself just fine doing odds and ends for the merchants.

In a fit of pique, Varric stomped out of the hovel and grabbed a lantern that hung in the courtyard. If anyone had anything to say, Varric was going to cut the offender’s tongue out. He stomped back in to Merrill’s home and began to search for potions. He found a single elfroot potion in an area she had cordoned off for magik. He also found a small pile of poorly made bandages. He made his way to her pantry for food and drink. He found only water. He had to sit the lantern and supplies. He leaned against the wall trembling in rage. He was breathing hard. It took time for Varric to regain his equilibrium. 

Varric gathered up the supplies and lantern and returned to Merrill’s bedroom. He found her leaning haphazardly on her pillow asleep with her mouth hanging open snoring. Her mage’s staff leaned against the wall next to the bed. Merrill’s feet still hung over the side of the bed, and she was still in her torn clothes. Dried blood flaked from her hair. Clots of sticky blood clung to her face and arms. Her right arm was swollen at the break. Bruises were coloring all over her like the Blight.  


Varric sighed and began to hum Bianca’s song under his breath to ease his mind. He set the few items on the nightstand to wake the sleeping mage.


	3. Chapter 3

Varric reached over and gently shook Merrill. It worried him that she was asleep. It was common knowledge never to fall asleep immediately after a hard hit to the head. Merrill roused a bit opening her one good eye.

“Oh, Varric, I must have dozed off.” Merrill said sheepishly. 

She tried to sit back up and groaned at the effort. Now that the fight was over, she was beginning to stiffen. She flailed weakly as she turned on her side to push herself up forgetting that her arm was broke. She gasped softly at the pain in her arm as she pushed herself to sitting.

Varric slid his arms around her and gently maneuvered her against his chest. She half sat, half laid against Varric. He reached across to the nightstand and grabbed the elfroot potion. He uncorked it and held it to the blood mages cracked and split lips. Varric tilted the potion and a small bit slid viscously from the bottle into Merrill’s open mouth. Merrill swallowed it and made a face.

“I hate the taste!” Merrill said as she shuddered.

Varric nodded. He, too, found the thick texture and heavily medicinal taste of the potion foul. He then tilted the bottle again. Dutifully, Merrill drank the next bit making small gagging noises at the taste. Varric upended the bottle a third time but nothing came out. 

“Damn it,” Varric thought, “not a full bottle.”

Merrill noticed the frustrated look Varric gave the empty bottle. 

“They are hideously expensive. I try to stretch a bottle as long as I can. Good thing Hawke always carries extra when we are out adventuring or Anders can heal the worst of it if he comes along.” Merrill explained.

Varric noticed the effects of the potion. The smaller bruises turned a sickly yellow from the healing properties of the potion and cuts scabbed over immediately. Merrill was more coherent and could sit with her own strength. She pushed gently away from Varric and leaned against rough hewn headboard of her bed. If she had a full draught, no doubt, the only thing Merrill would have to show for the attack would be sore muscles and a few light bruises. With just a few sips, the smallest wounds cleared leaving the worst only marginally better.

“Daisy, we have to go back to the Hanged Man.” Varric said nervously. 

They could not stay here. Those children’s families could decide to finish what the urchins started with Merrill. Also, Merrill was still injured badly if not gravely. She needed a true healer’s attention not the basic first aid Varric knew. Furthermore, Merrill’s place was totally devoid of food, drink and other basic necessities.

Merrill gave him a sharp look and opened her mouth to protest. Varric laid his leather gloved fingers to her mouth gently silencing her. 

“Now Daisy, don’t turn down my hospitality. It will break my stone heart.” Varric said glibly. 

While he wanted to rage at her for the circumstances at her home and her stubborn refusal of most aid, he couldn’t bring himself to yell or scold that broken face. 

“Well…alright, Varric. Just for one day.” 

Merrill sometimes still had a hard time with Varric’s play with words and did not want to offend him by refusing, but she did not want to be a leech either.

Varric nodded and smiled that lit even his amber eyes. Without another word, Varric bandaged the open wounds on Merrill. There wasn’t enough bandages so Varric concentrated on the worst of the injuries. He tied her arm to her chest to keep it still and covered the swollen eye. He noticed fluid seeping from her ear and felt a thrill of fear run down his spine. A cracked skull. He hoped that the dregs of the elfroot potion had sealed the crack. Those bastards cracked Merrill’s skull. Rage boiled back up in him. Oh by Maker, those animals would be lucky if he didn’t hunt them down. While he often did fight and kill, it wasn’t his nature to kill in cold blood the unwary. He fancied himself better than a common cutthroat. For all that, he seriously considered going on a murderous rampage through the Alienage. That would have to wait.

“Can you stand and walk?” Varric asked with gravity. While he was strong enough to carry her lithe frame, it would put them at a terrible disadvantage if they were attacked.

“Let’s find out.” Merrill said. 

She slid to the edge of the bed and slowly stood. She reached for her staff on the wall for support. When she felt stable, she took a tentative step. While she could not see or hear well out of her bad side and the multiple bruises, cuts and the broken arm throbbed dully; the world was not spinning. She hobbled across the bedroom in the gloom of the lantern and back.

“Good enough.” Varric said. 

He reached for her cloak and helped to drape it over her covering her torn clothes and bloody body. He pulled the hood up to hide her broken face. Varric kept an arm around the elf maid’s waist. She leaned against him some, but tried to have the mage’s staff take most of her weight.

Together, they slowly moved out of Merrill’s home in the Alienage. No one was outside much to Varric’s relief. He turned to lock the door to her home. Merrill noticed and giggled.

“Nothing to steal, Varric. Don’t bother.”

Varric huffed and finished locking the door. “Doesn’t matter, your home should be safe.”

It was a slow trudge back to the Hanged Man. The celebrations had finally puttered out. The quietness was almost unnerving. Every so often, Varric would stop and listen for the tell tale signs of being followed or the clink of metal armor and weapons. Merrill would take that opportunity to catch her breath. It was hard walking and she knew she had more wounds than Varric knew. She was pretty sure her ribs were cracked if not completely broken. It hurt to breathe and walking felt like glass shards being drove into her lungs.

Varric and Merrill both smiled when the Hanged Man came into sight. “We made it, Daisy.” Varric said with some relief.

He opened the door and found the place mostly deserted. A few of the local drunks were sleeping in a corner. The revelers had long since left for home or the houses of the fallen to spend their coins for night’s pleasure. Varric helped Merrill into the door and eased her down on the closest bench.

Edwina was sweeping the floor when she heard the door open. She yelled harshly without looking up, “Bar and kitchen are closed. Rooms all full. Be off with ya!”

Varric chuckled, “Oh Edwina, my love, you would throw your favorite dwarf out?”

Edwina jerked her head up eyes blazing and prepared to give Varric a good tongue lashing for being fresh. She choked on her own words at the sight of Varric supporting Merrill. Merrill had pushed the hood down with her good hand when she sat down. Edwina could see her heavily bruised and swollen face with one eye badly bandaged. Merrill smiled at Edwina’s shock.

“I got myself into a bit of a scrape, Edwina.” Merrill said simply.

“By the Maker, I’d say so. Come on. Let’s get you up to Varric’s rooms. I’ll get some water boiling and warm some food.”

Edwina joined Varric and both assisted Merrill up the stairs. For once, Edwina of the barbed tongue was silent. She had seen enough in her time at the Hanged Man that very little fazed her, but the sight of that innocent elf maid badly beaten was too much. Merrill wouldn’t hurt a fly. Who could so such a thing to her? As the group passed Isabela’s room, Edwina banged hard on the door and bellowed.

“Off your arse and on your feet!”

The door slung open revealing a naked mage with his staff poised to do damage and Isabela naked as the day she was birthed with her knives in hand. The small group could still see the signs of passion on the both of them. Anders sported bite marks. Isabela’s thighs glistening with spent seed from Anders. Both of them had the musky scent of sex about them.

“My eyes!” Varric yelled as he shut them. “Andraste’s tits! That is something I never wanted to see! Maker above, I am going to be sick!” He quickly turned away from the sight and shuffled Merrill back to his rooms muttering and cursing the whole way. 

Both the mage and rogue moved from battle readiness to confusion. “What in the Maker is so important to scare years of life out of us?” Anders asked.

Edwina scowled, “Daisy got beat. Get some clothes on and go help her!”

Isabela’s eyes darkened in anger. “Beat? By who?”

Edwina shrugged, “Don’t know. She ran out of here awhile back. Varric followed her. They came back.”

With that, Edwina turned and walked back down the hall. She made her way to the kitchen hearth and roused the fire. She set a pot of water to boil and put food in a plate to warm by the fire. She also grabbed some of the better wine, sweetened it with honey and spices. She also put that by the fire to warm. She made her way over to the linen closet to find some old sheets that could be torn up for bandages and wash cloths. While Edwina was busy, Anders and Isabela filled a basin with cold water and took a whore’s bath before throwing on their crumpled clothes. They tried to make themselves presentable and went to Varric’s rooms. Anders carried his satchel full of herbs and potions. 

Anders knocked and said politely, “It’s me, Varric.”

“Blondie, you’d better have some clothes on. I don’t want to go blind!” Varric yelled.

Isabela shoved past Anders and made her way into Varric’s suite. “Oh come off it, Varric! What do you expect bellowing and banging on wanted people’s doors? Tea and cake?”

Isabela found her way into Varric’s bedroom with Ander’s close behind. Merrill was seated on the dwarf’s low bed. Varric had unpacked Bianca and was stowing Merrill’s mage staff. His movements were stiff and jerky.  
Isabel knelt down in front of Merrill and gently untied the cloak and pushed it back. She gasped at the sight. Anders groaned and closed his eyes for a moment to collect his mana.

“What happened, Kitten?” Isabela asked.

Varric rudely interrupted with a hard bark, “Bunch of drunken elvhen lads attacked her in the Alienage. Fool mage wouldn’t use her magik on them…” 

He punched the wall he was facing. The mage staff and Bianca rattled uneasily from the hard hit. They all could hear bones crunch in Varric’s hand from the force of the hit.

Merrill shrieked, “Stop it, Varric!” She leaned into Isabela’s shoulder and sobbed. Isabela gently hugged the distraught blood mage. 

“It’ll be alright. Anders here will get you all fixed up.” Isabela said into Merrill’s bloody hair.

Anders gave Varric a hard look. He was still facing the wall. His body was rock still and tense. His hands were clenched into stones at his sides. Isabela gently disentangled from Merrill. Anders immediately went over and knelt down beside Merrill. He looked Isabela in the eye and glanced at Varric as he did so. Isabela nodded.

Isabela walked over to Varric and laid a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, down stairs for a stiff drink while Anders works his magik.” 

Varric rudely pushed her hand off of his shoulder and stomped away from her.

“No, I am staying!” Varric ground out between clenched teeth.

“Go on with ‘Bela.” Merrill said quietly. 

Varric turned and searched her face for a moment and nodded stiffly. Anders rose and gently grasped Varric’s wounded hand. A warm pulse of energy and a small burst of light engulfed the dwarf’s hand. Bones knit and the pain vanished. Varric yanked his hand out of Anders’ grasp and stomped out of his rooms with Isabela at his side without even a thank you. Anders and Merrill watched them leave. As they were leaving, Edwina pushed through with two sleepy, young lads that were apprenticed to the kitchen. All of them were carrying heavy loads.

“Here’s some water and bandages.” Edwina coughed as she set the heavy bucket of steaming water down along with some clean sheets.

The two young lads set heavy, covered platters of food and drink down on the table. “For the miss!” The oldest said gently. Edwina rounded up the lads and made to leave. Edwina closed the door behind them.

Anders turned to Merrill and with a soft voice said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”


	4. Chapter 4

Anders’ eyes were full of sympathy for Merrill. He, too, had been beaten many times. He opened his satchel and took a few items out and set them on the night stand beside Varric’s bed.

“Alright, let’s get your clothes off so I can take a look.” Anders said quietly.

Merrill looked uncomfortable. “Why? Can’t you just cast a healing spell?”

Merrill’s studies had taken her into blood magik and offensive and defensive natural magik. She knew nothing of the healing arts.

Anders shook his head. His hair was loose and fell into his eyes giving him a very young, innocent look. “No, I need to know what type of injuries you have and how severe they are. Also, I can’t do a complete heal on you. I have to go with Hawke later to the Wounded Coast. I cannot deplete my mana pool. Lyrium potions should only be used infrequently because they are toxic even to mages. I know I will deplete my mana pool on the patrol even if I didn’t heal you. I should not take more than one lyrium potion at a time or two in a short amount of time. Overdose can cause emotional and mental disturbances.”

Merrill nodded and began to untie her belt and tunic. Anders helped her remove the bloody and torn tunic, leather armor and breast band. He gently reached and helped her pull down her pants and underclothes. He united and pulled off the elvhen version of shoes which were little more than covers for the tops of her feet. Merrill tried to cover her breasts and pudendum with her hands and closed her eye. Anders turned to drop her clothes in a pile. He then began his inspection.

Anders sighed deeply at the damage. The young elf maid had terrible, purple bruises on her ribs. Blood had seeped through the skin and formed hematomas in places. He knew without a doubt her ribs were cracked if not broken. She had multiple cuts of varying depths on her hands and arms. Circular bruises from cudgels spotted her arms, thighs and lower legs. There was a swelling on her right arm indicating broken bones. Here and there were red hand marks from harsh grabs or slaps. He took a closer look at her face noticing the fluid leaking from her right ear and the terrible swelling on that side of her face. Anders gently ran his hands through her hair finding goose eggs from hits as well as raw spots from her hair and scalp being yanked out along with cuts from knives. The head wounds had bleed profusely. Her hair was a congealed mess of blood.

He also noticed the partial healing of some of the lesser wounds from the elfroot potion. Some of the bruises were yellow and green. Shallower cuts, scrapes and abrasions were scabbed over. In the process of inspecting Merrill’s wounds, Anders also checked for rape. He was glad to find no blood, bruising or seed on the young female’s thighs. Anders swore to himself that he would heal no elvhen lads coming to Dark Town sporting crossbow bolt wounds.

“Alright, Merrill, I am going to heal the worst of the wounds. Your ribs, arm, head and some of the deeper cuts and bruises. I am going to help you bathe and then bandage the rest. Before you ask, no, you cannot have another elfroot potion or healing potion. Like lyrium potions, they are toxic if taken in large quantity. I’ll give you herbal tisanes and poultices to help fight the infection and deal with the pain. You’ll need to stay here with Varric for a couple of days. It will take another day after the patrol for me to replenish my mana pool. I will completely heal you on the third day. Do you understand?”

Merrill nodded and said, “I don’t want to be a bother to Varric.”

Anders shook his head and laughed, “I doubt you would do any such thing.” Then with more gravity said, “I haven’t seen Varric so upset about anything, and we have been on some rather gruesome adventures. Let’s get you healed and bathed. Then I’ll call ‘Bela and Varric back in.”

In seconds, Anders cast a minor healing spell. The broken bones knit, cuts sealed over, and bruises faded. “Feel better?” Anders inquired.

Merrill looked at him with both eyes. The swelling was gone although her eye was bloody in the white and she still sported deep bruises. “I feel much better. I can hear out of my ear and see out of my eye.”

She rubbed her arm and ribs. She winced a bit at the ribs. “Arm feels okay. Ribs are still sore.”

Anders nodded. “I wish I could do more.” Anders felt guilty for not being able to do a complete healing.

Merrill smiled at Anders, “You did what you could. You do have other responsibilities. Thank you.” She gently reached out and patted the Grey Warden on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Alright, let’s get you bathed and bandaged. Your clothes are a mess. I don’t think Varric will much mind if you borrow a tunic from him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Merrill said in embarrassment. The idea of taking anything from anyone was alien to her. No one ever gave her anything in her clan except what was needed. She made most of what she had from basic utensils to simple tunics.

Anders misunderstood. “If you don’t want to wear a man’s tunic, I am sure Isabela wouldn’t mind lending you something although it won’t fit so well.”

Merrill shook her head, “No, I don’t want to be a bother…”

Anders broke in, “Well, you can’t wear those rags. I don’t think Varric is in the mood to go back to the Alienage. He might kill someone.”

“Anders, please go down and find out if Isabela would be willing to loan me a tunic until I can get back home. I don’t want to presume, and I can’t go down like this.” Merrill motioned to her nakedness and blood flecked appearance.

Anders just shook his head and murmured, “What a peculiar woman!” He thought about just how alien her experiences were not to even expect assistance from friends.  
“Okay, I’ll go ask. Use the hot water to wash up, even your hair, and this.” Anders handed her a small bar of herbal soap. She took the bar and sniffed it. It smelled nice.

“It’s a bar of soap infused with herbs to help clean wounds. It is astringent and may burn a bit, but it will clean all of the dirt and blood off of you. Dry yourself and wait for me. I’ll help apply ointments and poultices to your injuries and bandage you up.”

Merrill nodded and knelt down by the bucket of hot water and grabbed a wash towel. The blood mage began to wash her head and face as Anders turned to leave.

Meanwhile, down in the pub of the Hanged Man, Isabela rummaged around behind the bar looking for a good, single malt scotch and two whisky glasses. Edwina had poked her gray head out from the kitchen where she had a cot at the noise. She grunted an affirmative to Isabela and turned back in to get some rest in what was left of the night. It was dark. All the candles and lamps were out. The only light was from the fireplace. Isabela spied what she was looking for and hooked the bottle and glasses. She made her way back to the surly dwarf sitting at a low table.

Varric sat at the roughhewn table with his jaw clenched so hard the veins in his temples stood out and pulsated. He stared at his knotted hands silently. The silence worried Isabela. She had never known the dwarf not to have something glib to say in any situation. Isabela plunked the bottle and glasses down in front of Varric and sat down. She opened the bottle and poured a good, stiff portion into both glasses. She pushed one of the glasses in front of Varric and sipped at her own. She closed her eyes and smiled at the smooth, smoky taste that slid sensuously down her throat to settle into sweet warmth in her belly. This bottle came from a good year and region. She noticed Varric hadn’t touched his drink. Isabela wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips.

“Drink up, Varric!” Isabela commanded. “Brooding won’t change anything!”

Varric huffed and took a sip. His thick, golden eyebrows lifted in surprise at the smooth flavor. His first inclination had been to throw the glass against the wall, but he could not in all good conscience waste such a fine scotch. He took another sip and then another. Isabela could see the hard muscles in the sturdy rogue slowly unknot. He was still silent, but he didn’t seem ready to explode into violence at the drop of a hat. When he finished the glass, Isabela poured him another. When that one was dry, she went to pour another, but Varric covered the glass rim and shook his head.

“That’s enough, Rivani. I don’t want to be blind drunk. Thank you.” Varric had a small buzz going. He was more relaxed.

“Are you going to tell me what has got your knickers in a knot?” Isabela asked gently.

Varric sighed and briefly considered telling her to bugger off. He glared at her but saw gentle compassion not the mischievous look of gossip. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair loosening the tie in it. He yanked the tie free, rubbed his scalp and pulled at the thick hair to help relieve the tension in his head to stay off a terrible headache.

“She didn’t fight them.” Varric whispered more to himself and less to the pirate.

“She must have had her reasons…”Isabela began.

“She got beat like a cur dog by those bastards! A fucking blood mage, Rivani! One of the most powerful and maligned creatures in this Maker forsaken land wouldn’t lift her hands to defend herself!” Varric stood up abruptly and began to pace. His thick, golden locks had fallen over his eyes giving him a feral look.

“Merrill is a woman of strong convictions, Varric. She left her clan to live in the Alienage because of those views…” Isabela had the feeling that her getting beat was not the only thing bothering him. “What is really wrong?”

Varric continued to pace back and forth. “Have you even been into the shack Daisy calls a home?”

“No, Varric. She always meets me here to play cards or talk. Why?”

The dwarf stopped pacing and glared at ‘Bela before looking guilty. “We all do that huh? Never thought about it. Hawke only visited once and always politely turned Daisy down afterwards. City elves don’t take much stock in my kind so I only went down with Hawke to gather her up for a mission.”

Varric started pacing again before spitting out, “There nothing in the damned place. No food, no drink, nothing but that damned mirror she is mad about and some tomes. No candles or wood. Holes in the ceiling that a mabari could fit through. Why, Isabela?”

The pirate was surprised at Varric’s use of her name instead of her nickname. “I don’t know. It is her choice. Why does this bother you so much? Fenris lives in about the same squalor in High Town, and I don’t see you pitching a bitch over it.”

Varric started at Isabela’s words. He stopped pacing and went to sit back down. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured another drink. He took a long draught from it before sitting the glass down with a hard clink.

“How much do you know about dwarven culture?” Varric asked.

The pirate looked surprised at the abrupt change of conversation but decided to go along. “Only that is based on caste hierarchy, tradition and honor.”

Varric barked an ugly laugh at that. “I am surface born dwarf. Some surface born cling to the old ways more fiercely than the underground. I hate it…do you know why?”

Isabela shook her head in the negative.

“The Tethras clan was one of the highest clans in the noble caste. Right under the King until my father had the bright idea to fix the Provings…battles to prove honor or settle disputes. Idiot was caught, and we were exiled.”

“So?” Isabela asked. They had done well above ground in Isabela’s opinion.

“Not just my immediate family. All of the clan of Tethras…every last one of us from old geezers down to suckling babes had to leave Orzammar or die. Many of my able-bodied male cousins declared themselves dead and joined the Legion of Death to fight Darkspawn in the Deep Roads to expatiate the sin of my father’s dishonor on the clan. How many men and women committed suicide and murdered their children as not to live in disgrace, I’ll never know.”

“What was left of my clan came to the surface with all our possessions. Anything left was burned to ash and scattered lest our taint spread. We are worst than the casteless…defiled in a way you cannot begin to understand to dwarf kind. If we didn’t have more money than the Maker, we’d never bought our way into the Merchant’s Guild or opened businesses up here. Many still won’t be seen with us or marry their children to ours.”

“But all of that was before you were born, Varric.” Isabela wondered what this old tale had to do with the price of lyrium in the Chantry.

“Yeah well, the past has a habit of biting the present in the arse. Many of the more extended family is poor…like squatting in Dark Town poor. Starving and sick. The better off of Tethras haven’t learned a damned thing and pretend they don’t exist. I never frequent the whorehouses…I couldn’t bear the sight of a family member whoring to survive. I help out where I can, but it will never be enough. I thumb my nose and spit on the ways of underground dwarves and those who hold to their ways. Daisy…Merrill…is disgraced yet holds to her people’s ways despite the evil they done her…got beat…goes hungry…lives cold in a dark home in thread bare clothes.” Varric finished in a defeated tone. He stared down at his cup with a pained look on his face. Isabela had no words to advise or comfort the suffering dwarf.

Isabela and Varric heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see Anders making his way down. Both looked up expectedly. Anders gave a small smile as he reached the floor.

“Merrill is better. I healed some of her injuries…” Anders began.

Varric cut him off, “Why not a complete heal!”

Anders spoke gently, “I have to go with Hawke today. I cannot deplete my mana pool. The worst of her injuries are healed. I’ll bandage the rest. She needs rest and food more than anything now. Can she stay with you, Varric?”

“Why would you even ask…you know she can!” Varric spat out affronted at the idea he’d toss the elvhen maid out.

Anders grinned. “I am not asking for me, but at the insistence of Merrill.”

“Damn stubborn woman.” Varric growled.

“She needs something to wear.” Anders coughed and turned bright red.

Varric cast a murderous look at Anders, “Where are her clothes, mage?”

Isabela slapped Varric gently on the shoulder, “Stop it, Varric. Her clothes were torn to rags.”

“I had to remove them to heal her. She had broken ribs and arm as well as a cracked skull. She is bathing at the moment. I’ll need to bandage her and then she can put on something.”

“I can lend her something…” Isabela began.

“Not a chance in the Maker’s damned pit, Rivani.” Varric stood up and made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Isabela asked. “And why are my clothes not good enough?”

Varric yelled over his shoulder as he exited, “The Apparel Shop. They’ll open the door for me no matter the time. Daisy is modest, Rivani, and won’t appreciate looking like a whore at the Blooming Rose.”

“You damned dwarf, I do not look like a whore!” Isabela yelled angrily to his retreating back. He never answered. The door slammed closed behind him.

Anders laughed silently at the scene. Isabela turned to him with a hurt look on her face. “Do I look like a whore?”

“No, ‘Bela. Varric is just worried about Merrill. Let’s go upstairs.”

Isabela huffed and flounced up the stairs in front of Anders. Anders got a lovely peak at her full bottom as it bounced and jiggled as she took the stairs by two. By the Maker, she was a beautiful woman, Anders thought.

Isabela knocked on Varric’s suite door. “Merrill, it’s me. Can we come in?”

“Yes.” Merrill’s soft voice called back.

Anders and Isabela entered. They found Merrill sitting on Varric’s bed with a towel wrapped around her. His hair was loose from its customary braids and wet. She looked disheveled and tired but not in much pain.

“You do look better.” Isabela said. “Let me dry your hair.” Isabela grabbed another towel and sat down behind Merrill and began to gently massage the towel over the young woman’s hair.

“Where’s Varric? Is he still mad at me?” Merrill asked in a small voice. She noted the absence of the dwarf immediately.

Anders chuckled and then replied, “No, he is out waking the proprietors of the Apparel Shop to get you something appropriate. It seems Isabela’s clothes are not to your tastes.”

Isabela laughed heartily already forgiving the dwarf of his thoughtless words. “Apparently I look like a whore at the Blooming Rose. At least, I look like a high priced whore and not a toothless hag selling herself in Dark Town.”

Merrill gasped at that and turned to face Isabela. “I never said that…but you are much more…uh…confident than I am.” Merrill blushed and looked down.

“You’re sweet, Kitten.” Isabela said.

Anders began to apply lotions and poultices to Merrill. Isabela tore up clean sheets for bandages. Between the both of them, Merrill was bandaged up. Anders gave her a bitter tisane to drink. She sipped at it and made a face.

“I know it tastes terrible, but it will help you rest and ease the pain.” Anders said gently. Merrill nodded as she continued to sip at the bitter brew.

Isabela got a plate full of cheese, fruit, bread and various meats from the dishes brought up by Edwina and the boys. She then brought it over to Merrill. “Eat up!”

Merrill had a ravenous look at the sight of the food. It had been days since she had anything other than stale bread, staler ale and pottage. She tucked into the food immediately without her usual protestations. Isabela and Anders shared a look over the oblivious elvhen maid’s head. Varric had hit closer to the mark than Isabela was comfortable admitting. She finished her plate. Isabela filled another plate and Merrill finished that too. She had her fill and was beginning to feel sleepy when they all heard stomping up the stairs.

Varric kicked the door open to his suite as his arms were full of packages. He found Merrill bandaged and draped in a sheet with a plate of food on her lap. He smiled in approval at her. “Good girl!”

Merrill’s face lit up at the sight of Varric. She was so happy he had come back. She then noticed all the stuff he was carrying. “What is that?”

“Clothes and other stuff for you. You will take it without complaint; or by the Stone, I will bend you over my knee and spank some sense into you!” Varric sniped with mock severity. 

The owner of the shop was not happy being woke up at such an ungodly hour, but immediately shut up when Varric began buying multiple female garments along with boots and other accessories. Varric asked for help picking out the correct size for the blood mage, but he could make a good guess at her predilections for design and colors. When he a full wardrobe for multiple functions as well as all weather, he paid in gold sovereigns up front. The owner wrapped the stuff up and bagged it. Varric bowed with a flourish and left. The shop owner shook her head. This would make for an interesting tale if anyone would believe her.

Merrill just blushed and nodded. By the Creators, Varric must have bought the shop out. She would never be able to repay him.

“Oooh, can I watch?” Isabela purred in innuendo.

Varric glared at Isabela. “No you cannot. Thank you, Anders. You too, Rivani. Now get out.”

Anders looked confused for a moment, and Isabela cackled like mad as she stood. She gathered Merrill’s plate and cup and returned them to the table. She collected some food and drink for herself and Anders knowing he would be hungry after mage work. 

“Alright. We can take a hint. Good night, Merrill. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. If you do, please name it after me!” Isabela winked at Merrill as she herded Anders out of the suite.

Varric followed the couple. He closed the door and threw the lock. He turned to find Merrill looking drowsy on his bed. He cleared his throat and went over to the packages. He shuffled through them, found a small package and held it out to Merrill.

“Here, Daisy. Bedclothes.” Varric said simply.

She took the package, and he turned to leave the bedroom. “I’ll eat while you change.”

Merrill watched the retreating back of the dwarf. She could hear him clanking around the plates and cutlery as he made a very late supper with the leftovers. Every once in awhile, he would murmur to himself or hum as he ate.

She turned the package over in her hands. She untied the knots, and it fell open into a soft pile. She gasped at the sight. Inside, was a pale green, linen nightgown with simple ivy and flower embroidery around the neckline. Along with it was matching undergarments, a robe and soft suede slippers. She had never had anything so fine although in reality it was simple but well made clothing that many of the better off in Low Town wore.

Her eyes teared up and her hands trembled with emotion as she slid into the clothing. The underclothes fit like a glove. The nightgown came to her mid calf and was just loose enough for comfort but would not bunch uncomfortably. The neckline was high enough for Merrill and the sleeves were three quarter length. She lay on Varric’s bed listening to his movements. The bed and was soft and warm and was infused with the unique scent of Varric. She snuggled under the down quilt. Despite her best efforts, the tisane’s effects were being felt. She slid into a peaceful sleep.

Varric finished his supper. He piled up the dishes for the kitchen boys to collect later. He finished off his mug of ale. He walked silently back into his room. Merrill was in a deep, restorative sleep. Varric smiled as he walked over to the bed. He gently pushed a few tendrils of her black hair out of the sleeping woman’s face. She gently pushed into his hand and her eyes fluttered open for a moment at his touch. “Sleep well, Daisy.” Varric whispered to her. She smiled in recognition and slid back into slumber.

Varric quietly pulled off his clothes and found his sleep shirt. He gathered a few sheets, blankets and quilts from the shelf and snagged a pillow from his bed. He made a pallet on the floor in the corner of his bedroom and slid down into it. Weariness settled into his bones.

His last thoughts were of Merrill as he slid into sleep. “What am I going to do with you, Daisy?”


End file.
